


A Long Night At The Office

by keenquing



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keenquing/pseuds/keenquing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto puts Jack to work after hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Night At The Office

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo for the 'master/slave' square.

_Knock-knock_

Jack smirked, dropping the report he'd been leafing through. “Come in.”

The door opened and Ianto stepped in, nervously playing with his tie as he shut the door with his back. “Ah, everyone's gone, sir.”

The smirk turned into a full grin. “Good. Where do you want to do this?” he asked, walking around to lean against he front of his desk. He heard Ianto swallow as he crossed his legs and leaned back, but to his credit, Ianto recovered his composure quickly. He always did, and he seemed to be getting better at it as time went on.

“This will be fine, sir,” he said, his voice surprisingly firm.

Jack rose an eyebrow, but nodded. “All right. Anything else?”

Ianto finally looked up from his shoes, and Jack drew in a quick breath when he saw Ianto smiling. If Ianto knew what that smile did to him, he might stop doing it just to watch Jack squirm.

“Shouldn't I be asking you that, sir?”

Jack laughed, shaking his head and pushing himself off the desk. “And shouldn't I be the one calling you 'sir'?” he asked, taking hold of Ianto's tie and pulling him forward to crush their mouths together. He felt Ianto's breath leave him, and took the opportunity to slide their tongues together. Too soon, he felt Ianto's hands pressing against his chest, trying to push him back. Fighting back a frown, Jack backed up, giving one last parting nip to Ianto's lower lip. Then he stood back, trying not to smile as he watched Ianto try to wrangle control of his breath and his composure.

After a few moments, Ianto opened his eyes and cleared his throat. “Right. About that....” He shoved his hands into his pockets, then pulled his left hand out and up, holding out a strip of black leather. “I thought—well,” he shrugged and went back to looking at his feet.

This time, Jack's smile was a surprisingly gentle one. “Perfect. Do you want me to put it on myself, or—“

Somehow, Ianto managed to meet his gaze. “If you don't mind, s—Jack,” he stuttered, and Jack could almost hear the 'fuck' resounding in his mind. He forced his eyes open quickly and reached his hands up, and Jack was pleased to see they weren't shaking anymore than they were during their usual encounters. “I'd like to put it on you.”

Jack inclined his head slightly. “Of course...sir.” He dropped his gaze as he spoke, but he could still see Ianto blush. He bit the inside of his lip to resist saying something about how red was his colour.

And then there were fingers under his chin. “Head up,” Ianto said casually, sounding like he was relaying information over the comms.

Immediately, Jack's head snapped up. “Yes, sir.”

Jack heard Ianto make a noise in his throat, somewhere between a snort and laughter. “Good boy.”

Despite the fact that he had done this before, with people who were much more skilled, Jack shivered when the leather wrapped around his throat and he felt fingers on the back of his neck, working the strap through the buckles. Of course, it had never been like this with any one before—with the possible exception of John, it had always been one-off things, people he had paid or had picked up at bars and would never see again. With Ianto it was—well, he wasn't completely sure he wanted to think about what it was, exactly, but he liked it quite a lot and for now that was all that mattered.

Ianto's hands lifted and then he was backing away. Jack kept his head down, but lifted his eyes a bit to watch Ianto walk around. He took his jacket off and set it, gently, on the back of Jack's chair. Then he walked around the office again, leaning against the door in a pose similar to the one Jack had taken against his desk. Jack had to swallow the laugh that bubbled up when he thought that.

After—what, surveying his handiwork?--Ianto stepped forward again and took Jack's hair in his hand, tilting his head back. “Strip,” he said, softly, so soft that Jack could just barely feel breath against his face. “Take off all of your clothes, fold them up, and put them on the floor under your chair. _Neatly_ ,” he nearly hissed, leaning in close as he did so Jack could feel Ianto's lips brushing against his ear. “Understand?”

Jack nodded, jerkily. “Yes sir.”

He felt Ianto's smirk against his skin, and a cool, quick kiss on his temple as he was released. When Ianto's hand dropped, Jack's went to his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons and shrugging out of it and his braces. If it weren't for the fact that Ianto taking control like this was so amazingly hot —and the fact that _he_ was feeling so completely, wonderfully undone by it—Jack would have made some quip about some piece of alien tech putting them in each other's bodies. He realized that his hands were trembling as he folded his shirt.

Ianto watched him the entire time—as he walked around to the other side of his desk to place his clothes under the chair , as he bent to unlace his boots and fought the urge to make it into more of a show—but didn't say a word. If he hadn't become such an expert at sensing these things, Jack wouldn't have known that Ianto had come up behind him as he stood from setting his boots on top of the clothes. Still, even without the element of surprise, Jack hissed in a breath when Ianto pressed up against his back and took hold of his cock.

“Very good,” Ianto murmured against his neck, licking around the curve of his ear and tightening his grip just slightly. When Jack moaned, Ianto laughed.

“You like that, do you?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack gasped, fighting the urge to lean back or to arch up—anything that would mean Ianto was touching him more.

Apparently, Ianto sensed this, because his thumb started flicking lazily back and forth over the head of Jack's cock. “You're such a slut,” he breathed into Jack's ear. “You're already hard, and I've barely touched you.”

Jack didn't know how to answer to that, so he just grunted when Ianto pressed up tighter to his back. He was, however, temped to say something about the pot calling the kettle black, as he was fairly certain it wasn't Ianto's phone pressing into his thigh.

“But that's all right,” Ianto continued, kissing Jack's shoulder. “At least, this way, I know that you'll never let me down. You'll always make sure you please me, won't you, Jack?” A sharp scrape of teeth against his shoulder. Jack pressed his lips together, barely muffling his cry.

“Yes, sir,” he choked out. He heard Ianto make that noise again, the one that was almost a laugh but wasn't.

“Good.” Another kiss, on his cheek this time. “Go sit down.”

It took Jack's legs a moment to remember that, despite what his mind might think, Ianto had not melted his skeleton. Swallowing hard, he took the (mercifully) few steps to his desk, whimpering in the back of his throat as each step caused the air brush against his painfully-hard cock. He collapsed, gratefully, into the chair. He bolted to attention quickly enough, though, when Ianto's arms wrapped across his chest.

“You'll do anything I tell you to, won't you, Jack?” he mumbled against his throat as his fingers played with Jack's nipples. Jack yelped as pinched his left one between his thumb and forefinger, dropping his head back.

“Yes. God, yes. Just please, please let me touch you. Let me do—something. Anything. Sir,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

He felt Ianto's open-mouthed grin. “Soon. But not yet.” Ianto puncuated the statement by biting his neck, quick but hard, hard enough to make Jack dig his fingers into the top of the desk. “You need to do something for me—just one little thing. Then, if you do it well, I'll see about rewarding you.”

Jack swallowed, taking a deep breath to regain a little control of himself. “And what would that be, sir?”

This time, Ianto's laugh was loud and clear. He gave Jack's shoulders a quick squeeze as he stood up. Jack panted as he watched Ianto move around the office, breath stopping completely for a moment as he walked out of the office—but kept the door open. Good, that must mean he was coming back soon. Jack had played the waiting game in this situation, and he could do it, he just didn't think he could do it now. Not without putting a stain on the carpet under his desk, anyway.

Barely a minute later, Ianto was back—with a folder in his hand. Jack bit back his question, waiting quietly as Ianto shut the door and walked back to stand in front of the desk, dropping the folder on top of it. Then he leaned down, smiling at Jack. That horribly, too-sweet smile. The one he'd used when Owen had been toying around with the singularity scalpel and had come far too close to hitting the coffee maker and Ianto had let him know what would happen to him if he ever played around with that thing around it again.

“These are incident reports from the last month,” he said, coolly. “Reports that you were supposed to do, but didn't, so they got passed on to me.”

Oh, shit. Jack knew where this was going. Knew, but hoped he was wrong.

He wasn't. “You are going to rewrite each one of them. Completely, and with tolerable spelling and grammar. When—and only when—I have seen that this has been done, will I give you what you want.”

Jack tried not to gape. There had to be at least thirty reports in there! And he knew Ianto had already filed all of them—but of course, that wasn't the point. Biting down all of the things he wanted to call Ianto and tell him to do, Jack nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Ianto grinned just a bit too eagerly. “I knew you'd do it. Good boy.” He leaned over to kiss Jack's forehead, running his fingers quickly through his hair. Then he pulled away and backed out of the room—leaving the door open. Then he walked to his desk and, in full view of Jack, undid his tie and the first few buttons on his shirt as he sat down. Jack swore, quietly, when he started typing. He knew for a fact Ianto wasn't pretending, that he really _was_ working.

And, Jack figured, if he wanted any piece of the Welshman, he had better start doing the same. Shifting to a slightly-less-uncomfortable position, Jack picked up the folder.


End file.
